


Vide Noir

by ranarchist



Category: Red Dwarf (UK TV)
Genre: AU- I hate season 8, Angst, Childhood Trauma, Codependency, Lister is bummy but i love him, M/M, Pining, Rimmer comes back, Slow Burn, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:48:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25989997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranarchist/pseuds/ranarchist
Summary: Kochanski has returned to her own universe, the posse has found Red Dwarf, but Lister still thinks something- or, someone- is missing.(An AU where the nanobots haven’t brought everyone back, and the OG Rimmer returns from gallivanting around as Ace.)
Relationships: Dave Lister/Arnold Rimmer
Comments: 23
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, this took me longer to edit than write it in the first place.  
> I'll probably be uploading a new chapter at least every week. Not sure how long I want this to be, I just have a general outline. All you need to know is season 8 doesn’t exist for me.

Lister possesses a lot of mixed feelings about his life, but it's all over if he's the god of the _Felis Sapien_ and can't convince Cat to smoke a cigar. 

"Listen here, human, I have my lungs ensured. I got them bedazzled." 

Lister stares at Cat. Glaring at him through a thick wall of cigar smoke in Red Dwarf's professional kitchen, making himself a chili-chutney sandwich, he can't tell if he's joking. "If you get addicted to nicotine maybe they'll send you a refund," he points out.

"Hah! Leave it to a human not to understand insurance," Cat says preening himself, leaning against the counter. He scoffs as Lister blows smoke into his face. 

"Fine," Lister says, sad that he can't get a rise out of Cat like this. "We'll do shots." 

Cat raises his eyebrows, but he's mostly unimpressed as Lister slams a bottle of vodka on the chef's counter, so large that it probably has a gravitational field.

Lister wakes up, and he doesn't think about it before he's throwing up in a cardboard box he's found at the edge of his bunk. His dreads are wrapped around his biceps like weird sleeves and he vaguely feels a wet sensation on his leg. He thinks he might have pissed his pants.

He puts the cardboard box back on the ground, realizing he's thrown up into Rimmer's collection of mini staplers.

He says collection, but there's only seven of them. He'll clean them.

He realizes that he's in the bottom bunk, therefore technically in Rimmer's bed. He makes the mistake of laughing whilst he sticks his fingers down his throat, trying to finish ejecting his entire stomach. He guffaws and chokes. He's pissed in Rimmer's bed. 

Before the smell of Lister's failures were present, the bunk didn't smell anything like Rimmer anymore. It hasn't in the two years since he left. Lister tries to remember what Rimmer did smell like. He groans into the sheets because it feels like every pore in his body is unable to breathe, but despite all this discomfort he's only desperate to experience that one thing he used to take for granted.

He recreates the scent in his head if he focuses. It's a combination of clean fabric and the women's shampoo the git always denied using. It smells of lavender. 

His eyes start to work again, and he realizes there's a sticky note on his chest. He leaves the comfort of his imagination to peruse the small, pink paper. He holds it up to his face tentatively to see it has a bulleted list on it. 

  * make timetable for  
making revision timetable
  * revision timetable


  * stop failing
  * clean locker
  * present for dave



Lister's breath gets rockier as he realizes it's Rimmer's handwriting. Rimmer's diaries always possessed the same lack of capital letters and odd paragraphing- the lettering is distinct as well. Neat, but crowded looking. What present is Rimmer talking about? 

He looks around the quarters he's technically moved out of. When Cat is drunk and falls asleep on a heating vent deep in Red Dwarf's recesses, he sleeps in his old room. He usually pretends that the silence is good (by telling himself that Rimmer's finally stopped talking for the night). Not existentially dreadful (he's never going to see Rimmer again). 

He stands up and grabs the gallon of water he's taken to keeping by the foot of the bed, lifting it to his mouth with both hands and drinking, before he realizes this is a terrible idea. He manages to get the toilet before he throws up again.

Kryten enters the room with a short sigh. "Enter: concern mode." His eyes twitch for a second before becoming something so maternal that Lister can draw zero comparisons to it. He wonders if that could be because he doesn't have a mother.

Lister is fine with Kryten being this way, though. He feels like a motherless monkey, and he's comfortable with admitting he's covered in his piss.

Kryten winces at the sight. "Mister Lister, do you need help?" He asks in his familiar drawl. He leans down and grabs his left arm, not waiting for a response, and helps him to stand up. "You seem to have... spilled something over yourself." 

Lister stares down at his crotch before making eye contact with Kryten. He points a threatening finger into his face, "Not a word to Cat about this." 

The kindhearted droid pretends to be oblivious. "Of course, would you like me to wash these sheets?" 

He pauses. "I suppose if ya' want to. Can you hand me that pink sticky note, Krytes?" Lister's eyes feel like they're going to fall out of his head. He vaguely gestures towards the bunk, unable to stop squinting. Lister feels Kryten peel something off his t-shirt. 

"You mean this one?" 

Lister gratefully takes the small piece of paper from Kryten, becoming unusually possessive over it now that he has it in his hand. He smooths it out against his palm. It feels important. 

"Kryten, do you know of any present-" He sighs before he can finish, realizing how ridiculous he sounds, "that Rimmer was going to get me before he left?" 

The mechanoid's eyes widen, "Are we speaking of the same Rimmer?" 

"You're right, I'm sorry, it's smegging stupid." 

"I'd like to help if I can." 

Lister doesn't know if he wants to share this piece of paper with anyone else, but he knows that he won't uncover any unknowns otherwise. He holds it up shyly. "I found this last night. I don't know what it's talking about. I just know that it was his."

His friend's eyes scan the paper. Lister hands it to him, hoping that his mechanical eyes can glean microscopic details that Lister is oblivious to. 

"Well, as he always loved to remind me, I am a glorified lavatory cleaner, and this isn't my area of ability. However, I cannot remember a single time _Mister Rimmer_ called you Dave." 

Lister makes a grabby motion with his hand and Kryten hands it back to him. It occurs to him that's pretty much correct. They're usually on a last-name basis, and for whatever reason, that hasn't changed after three million years. In his hung-over state, the discrepancy had been invisible to him. Now, it's staring him in the face. 

"What do you think it means?" 

"It seems that this was written by _Ace_ Rimmer." 

Lister smiles. Then he instantly makes a face like he's got his balls in the wrong part of a hydraulic press. "But he died." 

"Yes. That version of him did, and then our Rimmer took over. That’s the one time I can remember him calling you Dave." 

"So, you think he wrote this before he left?" 

"I think it's too early to have a concrete theory," Kryten says, shuffling Lister towards the shower. "But you need to bathe. You smell quite horrible, sir!"

Lister agrees and Kryten takes his leave. He undresses and steps into the water, yelping at how cold it is, trying to relax. The sticky note doesn't have to mean anything. Lister assumes he's just hungover and emotionally heightened. The only thing is, he's hungover all the time, and he doesn't usually feel like this. 

He dresses and makes his way towards the canteen, wrapped in a fluffy pink blanket he found in Kochanski's old quarters (he tells everyone she gave it to him.) His slippers shuffle across the cold metal floor. Why did he choose to sleep so far from the food? 

Cat nods at him as he comes in, eating a fish (of course), and dressed in a suit made out of a shimmering sharkskin material. Lister is ashamed to admit that he's minutely jealous of the Cat's tailoring skills. He constantly feels as if he doesn't have any expertise but making sure the soup nozzle is the right temperature. 

"What's got you looking like a Spice Girl that's been told she can't wear sequins anymore?" Cat asks idly. 

"The Spice Girls barely even wore sequins anyway," Lister counters. He sits down across the table, a bag of crisps in hand. "Way ahead of their time, they were." He starts humming the chorus of _Wannabe_ as he eats, wondering if a glass of milk would taste revolting with his salt and vinegar chips. 

"Suit yourself," Cat grumbles, tucking into his fish. 

Lister wavers for a second. "It's just that I found something of Rimmer's last night." 

"What's new? This whole ship is weighed down by the stuff that goalpost head thought he was allowed to leave behind. We've got five puncture repair kits just for his widow, and I don't even know where her air pump is! It's just floating around here somewhere with the needles he used to embroider all the condoms!" 

Lister laughs and spills chip crumbs all over himself, but that's not very new for him. "I was thinking that Rimmer might have used the puncture repair kit to sew the condoms as well. Why have two sets of needles?" 

Cat shakes his head disdainfully. "You got to love to hate that guy. All those holes in his condoms, it was like he wanted to get pregnant." 

Lister cocks his head at the last statement, but it's true... You love to hate Rimmer. Holly knew that when she brought him back to keep him sane. Then, Rimmer left. How did that bode for Lister? 

Cat twitches his ears like he can hear the worrying in his friend's head. "So, what did it say?" 

"Just a to-do list like he was always making. He referred to me as Dave and said he wanted to get me a present. It also said he wanted to make a revision timetable." 

"You think it's weird that he called you Dave-" 

"Yeah! He's never done that, even in his diary," Lister cut him off, "Oh, sorry." 

"And he wanted to get _you_ something? That's weirder than a cat in the ocean! So, you think he wrote it while he was acting like Acehole?" 

"That's what I was kind of thinking," Lister says, putting his hand behind his neck sheepishly. He can't figure out why the subject makes him feel weird. He told everybody about Rimmer becoming Ace, once he was gone. It's just like Rimmer requested... But it still feels like he's divulging something private. 

Cat nods but looks confused, "I am a cat, and I pride myself on attention to detail. I am going to say, it is freaking weird that he would want to make a revision timetable before he leaves to go save the multiverse." He's got that shrill questioning tone, the kind he adopts when he doesn't want to be proven wrong.

Luckily, Lister is just left more dumbfounded than ever. Rimmer's timetables are so normal to him, it seems foreign to question them. Now that he thinks, there is no reason that Rimmer would have written that before he left. None.

"And... We're at another dead-end, Cat." Lister sighs and eats his last chip. 

"I always feel like that when talking about that guy!" Cat shudders. 

Lister makes his way towards the vending machine and orders a chicken vindaloo. "Why aren't you hungover too?" He asks as he sits down, spilling some down his shirt, but luckily not on his blanket. 

The cat sniffs indignantly, "Nine lives, right?" 

Lister spends the rest of his day walking around the ship. He never thinks well when he's sitting still. He just ends up getting drunk or falling asleep, a habit he isn’t happy with, but it certainly lets him reserve the title of Red Dwarf's Resident Bum. It just isn't easy, waking up every day like he has anything to do, and then keeping up the charade with himself. 

The scutters start following him after he's walked a mile. It's probably out of concern because he's tripping over himself like he's soiled his pants again. 

He finally stops walking when he reaches the cinema at the far end of the ship. He never goes to this one unless he wants to be alone. It's got a bunch of weird stains everywhere, and some of them are way too white for Lister's comfort. He always makes sure to sit in the front, where the most offensive thing will be himself. He ends up falling asleep in the seat, and his sleep is dreamless, unusually peaceful. 

When he awakes, he has a realization. He jumps up, immediately making his way towards the corridor. It takes him much less time to get back; the nap refreshing his senses, and his walk re-familiarizing him with the route. He enters his old quarters and starts looking for a small piece of paper, post-haste. 

He spends the next several hours searching through Rimmer's things, becoming disgustingly familiarized with every office supply item the smeggy man collected over his life. In the end, Lister is satisfied to discover that there are absolutely no sticky notes that are an electric shade of pink. 

"I think I've figured it out," He tells Kryten and the Cat that night, once he's cemented his theory. He hopes they don't laugh at him. 

They're in one of the old bars on the ship. The lighting is low, the way Lister enjoys it. They're all sitting at a table, nursing drinks. Kryten even has some lighter fluid. Lister thinks it's lighter fluid. 

Lister clears his throat and lays a notebook on the table. "Rimmer kept meticulous track of his day-to-day life. I know this because I've read all his diaries." Kryten looks guilty by association just as soon as he hears this. His face sinks into his collar sheepishly. Lister continues, "Either way, I've discovered something telling." 

"Oh, you've gone full Rimmer!" Cat says distastefully. "Investigations... Reading things... What's next, doing ship inventory?" 

"I admit, I-" Lister spends a few seconds trying to come up with a verb for 'acting like Rimmer.' "I've been doing some Rimming?" 

"Listen bud," Cat lays a hand on his shoulder, "If I ever hear you say that again, I will kill you." 

"I'm sorry sir, I have to agree with this decision." 

Lister looks between them both before ignoring them. "Anyway, I spent a couple of hours looking through Rimmer's stuff. I looked and found a diary entry from before he left, and he mentioned that he only used ballpoint pens. Two specific brands of ballpoint pens. It held up under scrutiny- he doesn't own a single pen that isn't of that variety!" 

Cat and Kryten are starting to look concerned. "I know I sound batty, but he also didn't own any pink sticky notes. So where did this come from?" He waves the paper ostentatiously in front of their faces, but the reaction he elicits is far from encouraging. Their faces are blank. "This was written with a fountain pen as they used in the 19th century. I studied it. I think that this is a time-traveling sticky note. I think it's from a time where Rimmer has a different type of pen, and for some reason, he's revising for his astronavigation exams again."

Kryten has a look of astonishment on his face. Lister is ready for comments about ordering rubber wallpaper and taking sharp objects away from him. Instead: "This is... surprising, Mister Lister. It didn't even occur to me!"

Cat leans forward, more interested now that Kryten isn't batting down the idea. "But how do we know the vindaloo isn't just catching up to him?" 

"Oi, shut up." 

"I'm serious! I'm not sure if that stuff ferments properly." 

"Well, sirs," Kryten says, laying his hands flat on the table. "I think I have a method to test if something has time-traveled before, although I need to test my hypothesis. Would you follow me to the laboratory?" 

Lister and Cat both stand up, and sure they're a little tipsy, but he needs to know. He doesn't even know how he feels about this whole prospect yet- this idea that maybe RImmer sends a sticky note back in time. It's ridiculous. It's also just like Rimmer. He still won't get his hopes up, though. His ideas are usually only that- an idea. Wrong. Stupid. He's just shocked that Kryten has a way to tell him the truth, but he's not sure he wants to know yet. 

"If I calibrate the time drive properly," Kryten says, "it can detect minute differences in the subatomic field." He fiddles around with it for a second, his large fingers typing into the monitor. "Anything that has time-traveled will occupy more area in the space-time continuum. Every time an object travels through time, another copy of it exists in space-time. Therefore, it possesses the same mass but is 200% larger in space. This change in quantum presence should be easily detectable." 

"Wow, and I didn't think this guy could _get_ any bigger!" Cat says about Lister. 

He responds by throwing a plastic beaker at him, but the Cat dodges it easily. "So, how do we test it?" 

"We've all time traveled, so to compare our readings with the notes will be easy. With luck, they'll look similar." 

Lister sits down on a counter with the paper in his hand. He stares at it, feeling the material crunch in his fingers, mindful that he's going to get his answers. 

"According to the data," Kryten starts speaking; he holds a small blinking light up to Lister, and then to the piece of paper. Lister stops breathing and waits for the rest. "There are some very large subatomic discrepancies between ourselves and the paper. I would bet it's time-traveled much more than any of us. I can't tell how many times, though." 

Lister isn't sure when he's expecting Rimmer to come home, come back to him. He can just sense that it's somehow going to happen. The three of them spend the next few weeks manning the long-range scans for anomalies that could show inter-dimensional or time travel, and it puts a feeling in Lister's stomach like he's going to vomit. Kryten analyzes the paper more: he Carbon dates the ink and finds that it's hundreds of years old, making the theory that much more real. Not a theory. The reality, for some reason. He doesn't understand. It's bewildering that he was correct. Lister can't shake the assumption Rimmer is gone, that he's delusional, and going crazy like Holly thought would happen. 

The VR suite ends up occupying a lot of his time. Escapism in its purest- what did people do before the year 2125? - and he loves it. He sleeps with the queen of Camelot (again), he solves murder mysteries, and one time he decides to try Better Than Life again. His dream was always to be a rock star. 

Lister always has the sticky note in his pocket. He swears it makes him feel safer. 

Three months after his revelation, life is dull as ever. Lister thinks that he imagined everything. It's infuriating. 

He and the cat are taking a morning stroll in the bowels of the ship. Although Lister pretends to be interested, he knows that it's an excuse for his friend to say, "this is mine," about everything he sees. 

"Hey, this is mine too," Cat says, slapping a particularly shiny pipe. "Yeeeow! I can even see my hot ass in the reflection!" He spins around cheerfully. 

"Hey mate, you want this too?" Lister asks, picking up a key chain. 

The Cat grimaces. "That looks like a pretty terrible toy." 

It's not a toy. Just a little duck-shaped keychain from a dead crewman. Impossible to tell whose it was. Suddenly, Lister feels even sicker than ever.

"I got to take a nap, Cat." 

"Me too! Let's go!"

Holly wakes him up at 8 AM. For a second, he thinks QUUEG is back. Then, he remembers that was just Holly screwing with them. "Please shut the smeg up- or I will find your circuit boards, spit seltzer water on them, and you will die."

Lister can hear Holly bang her head against the screen. He looks up at the computer projection, wondering if he even needs the seltzer water. "What do you want, Hol?" 

"Well, it's just that I have a ship hailing us." 

Lister jokingly thinks he's going to pee the bed again.

He's half-joking.

"Are you serious?" He jumps up so fast he hits his head into the top of the bunk, and he realizes he's in Rimmer's bed again. He needs to stop sleeping in here. "I'll be in the drive room in five minutes- just- is it, Rimmer?"

Holly says she doesn't know. Lister scrambles out of bed, suddenly aware that he hasn't showered in days, he's got a shirt encrusted with last night's midnight cereal, and his socks are probably breeding alien life. He knows he looks ridiculous, and he thinks it is even more pathetic that he starts getting ready like a boy for the prom. He takes a two-minute shower (which will probably help him avoid knocking anyone out), puts on the only clothes he knew were clean (he had saved them for a special occasion), and runs to the control room with a toothbrush in his mouth.

He's going fast, it's so dumb. He's feeling the way he did when he was 23, and after everyone had died, Rimmer told him he found a capsule in space. Then it turned out to be a Red Dwarf garbage pod. Except, this time it isn't garbage, right? 

Lister emerges in the drive room just as the Cat comes in from another doorway. Lister spits his toothpaste on the floor and wipes his mouth clean on his sleeve. "Did you talk to him yet?" 

"I don't know who you're talking about yet! My brain takes at least five more minutes to load!" Cat cries.

"Answer the Hail, Holly."

Lister is tapping his foot incessantly, waiting for the signal to come through. He's never been a nervous person. Right now, though, he feels like there's a polymorph growing in his stomach.

The screen turns on. Lister is suddenly solid stone.

_"Rimmer?"_

He sees him. It's not a delusion. Rimmer looks different, but not Ace RImmer anymore. The first thing he notices is his hair. He's abandoned the wig. It's natural, but it's dark and long and curly, collecting around his ears in ringlets of ebony brown. He looks older, but in a healthy way. He can tell he's seen some shit, yet never wavered. His jacket is leather, patched, loose. It's similar to Lister's, and it's not Rimmer's style at all. For some reason he gets a ping of jealousy, wondering who might have gifted it to him.

Lister is sure he's been standing here with his mouth hanging open for several minutes. He never thought. . .

"-And then I can?"

Lister realizes that Rimmer is speaking to him. Rimmer's got that thick Ace drawl that's become second nature to him, but Lister didn't even register it as Rimmer's voice at first. Every time he's fantasized about talking to him- alright, he'll admit that fantasized is a strong word- Rimmer has that condescending tone that makes Lister want to punch and hug him at the same time. He sounds maturer now, but it was never going to compare to the classic Rimmer. His Rimmer.

"Listy? Are you hearing me?"

Heat pools in his stomach when Rimmer says his name in that deep voice. Alright, maybe it could compare. He can't stop looking at him. Rimmer looks like everything he's been thinking about. He's better than that.

"Sorry about that," Cat interjects. Nudging Lister out of the way, leaning against the control panel, he says, "He's just worried, I threw out the last puncture repair kit and he doesn't know if Rachael is going to survive the week! Such a shame. He was just getting to know her."

Lister pushes the cat away from him, scoffing. He's coming to his senses. "Yeah, sorry, Rimmer. Your widow moved on."

Rimmer stares into Lister's eyes through the screen. It conveys an odd sadness he can't decipher yet. "Yes, well I'm sure it was very hard for her to get over me," He tries to say in his normal voice, clearing his throat into his fist.

The channel closes. Before Rimmer docks on Red Dwarf, Lister has about five minutes to make the place presentable. The ship is 3 million years old, only half the airlocks work, and he's pretty sure the soil samples in the science wing have evolved to bear children. He can at least wipe up the toothpaste he had spat everywhere. Rimmer has always possessed meticulous standards (especially for a man on the worst ship in the galaxy). He's sure he wouldn't like spittle all over the bridge.

Lister knows he's losing it. He's concerned about Rimmer's opinion.

Kryten enters the room and starts scurrying around excitedly. "Oh, Mister Lister," He says. "this is just what we've been hoping for!"

Lister smiles for what feels like the first time in years; "I'm gonna go meet him in the hangar."

Lister starts running again, and it's pretty embarrassing as he tumbles over himself, launching through the corridors. He trips over something and doesn't care. The others will catch up with him. He's not even thinking about all this weird time-travel business. It's not important anymore. His best mate is back.

Breathless, he emerges unto the hangar. He scurries down the twenty flights of stairs to Rimmer's ship, and he stops for a second, afraid. What if Rimmer doesn't like him anymore? Lister doesn't know what he's gone through. He could be a completely different person. Or, what if Lister is too different now? Two more years in deep space might have left him with a personality that this Rimmer won't stick around for. 

Rimmer emerges from the same ship he left in years ago. Lister can just stand there, frozen yet again. He wonders if this is going to be a recurring problem for him. Rimmer looks so different. The way he holds himself, he doesn't look like someone who's only pretending to be strong. He is strong.

Lister didn't remember how tall the git is. Now he's staring right up at him and he can't stop himself from remarking, "You look like a car-wash balloon man that's spent four years on a rubber-stretching machine."

Rimmer sneers, crossing his arms. It's a familiar sight. "Oh, like you would know! All this, coming from a man who mixes up his undershirts with samplings in the Museum of Pedology."

"Not very interested in pedicures, myself, thanks," Lister says. He has no idea what pedology is.

He feels kind of bad about the stretching comment. Rimmer once told him that their father stretched him and his brothers to be Space Corps' regulatory height. He doesn't mention it again. Rimmer shifts on his feet, tuts, and Lister stays quiet. He wants Rimmer to fill the empty air. He can't hear anything but the blood in his ears and the other's breathing.

"So, did you manage to keep everyone alive?" The taller one asks, his voice changing octaves as he tries to stop talking like a gimboid movie star. "I didn't see Kryten in the drive room."

Lister smiles. "You're concerned about Kryten?"

"Of course, I'm bloody concerned, you think I left to go save everyone else and..." Rimmer stops what he's saying. He's gone into that shrieking tone he adopts whenever he can't stand whatever Lister's got to say. Rimmer must think it's unsightly compared to the _Ace_ accent. Lister loves it, though.

Rimmer sighs. He says, "Well, I wouldn't be a very good hero. If that was the case. Which it's not."

Lister sticks his hands in the air. "Sorry man, I wasn't thinking. You're right." He slowly lowers them.

"And I'm back now, so that means. . ." Rimmer avoids eye-contact, focusing on Lister's jacket, "I'm here to stay if you want me."

Lister didn't know that he was going to have a conversation like this with Rimmer. He thought that Rimmer would just barge in and start telling the scutters to paint and change the color of the entire ship from currant red to scarlet red. Because, _yes there is a difference between the two, you failed attempts at three-pronged sex toys._ It's not every day that Rimmer is asking Lister for anything, let alone permission. 

_If you want me._

"Don't be daft," he scoffs."You're the only one that can get the vending machine in corridor 34 working. It told me it missed romance and wanted sexual favors for a choccy bar."

Rimmer pinches the bridge of his nose. "I thought you were aware that is how it acts when it's working." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be writing more chapters on a pretty consistent schedule! i really appreciate kudos or comments :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice I am a bitch for character development, unlike Doug Naylor.

Lister suggests that he and Rimmer go to meet the others in the drive room. He thinks he'll have to show him the way, but Rimmer starts walking away immediately. Lister turns on his heel to follow.

"Hey, in case you were wondering, Cat was joking about Rachael."

"Oh thanks, I was really worried," Rimmer snips. Rimmer obviously has stuff on his mind other than the doll. It occurs to Lister he should bring up the time-travel phenomena they discovered, but he doesn't want to make him more anxious. He understands the daunting nature of making a reappearance, and time travel is just another touchy subject.

Rimmer regards the buttons outside the elevator, trying to find the one that will bring them to the drive room.

Lister coughs inconspicuously. "It's there, at the top."

Rimmer presses the grimy button. It's coated in soot from the days when miners worked on Red Dwarf. "I remember," he says, wiping his hand along the wall, trying to get the grime off his fingertip. "It's on level two. Level one is the observation dome."

Something cramps in his chest at the mention of the observatory deck; Lister hasn't been up there in years. It's where most of his favorite memories with Rimmer happened, and really, it was the only place that they talked about anything meaningful. As such, it's unbearable without him. 

"I don't remember," Lister lies about it.

They board the lift, and Lister spends a few seconds trying to bury any resentment he has towards Rimmer. He still gets an overwhelming feeling of abandonment when he thinks about him leaving. There are no other humans alive anymore. Consequently, it doesn't feel like Rimmer simply left. It feels like Rimmer left Lister in particular. He knows that it's sick at heart, to be resentful of him being a hero. Lister then shakes his head reflexively, the revulsion towards his own thoughts taking over. It's not like they were _together_. He can't lay any claim to him.

"Anything. . . Wrong?" Rimmer asks, turning his body to come face-to-face. He looks concerned, something which Lister missed being on the receiving end of.

Lister softens for a second, his eyes drifting down to the leather jacket Rimmer's wearing, and suddenly he's increasingly pissed off about his leave of absence.

"Where did you get the coat?" 

Rimmer's shoulders curl instinctively as he puts his hands in his pockets. He takes a step back from Lister, and the space between them feels like a moat. He doesn't know how to bridge the divide, and it makes him nauseous, regretting he asked in the first place.

"I got it from you," Rimmer says cheerlessly. He's defeated, the normal edge to his voice half baked.

"Why. . ." Lister starts, but then he reaches his conclusion. "Okay," he remarks. He thinks that's all he needs to hear. If Rimmer saw him die in another dimension, it's not his business.

"Do you remember her, Deb Lister? The female version of you."

Lister kicks himself because, _oh yeah, Rimmer doesn't know when to stop talking_. He corrects his posture, adjusting his back on its place against the wall. "Yeah, 'course I do, her and Arlene Rimmer," he says, and crosses his arms.

"I found their universe again, to ask Arlene to be Ace. I thought that it would help her. She was such an insufferable person, you know?" Rimmer clamps his hands behind his back, as he does when he's telling a story."When I found her she was even worse off, somehow. She told me that you and the Cat's counterpart had died."

"Great, thanks for telling me," he grimaces, and it's obvious he's not going to be shown mercy. Once the git is on a roll, it's never-ending. He's always forced to listen to whatever Rimmer has to say.

"This was Deb's. That's why it's smaller than yours."

"Hell," Lister doesn't know if he can feel any worse about this. He grips the handrail until he can speak again. "I need you to stop talking."

Rimmer runs his fingers through his shiny hair. The extra length and excessive hair product make it stands up in weird places afterward, and Lister fondly thinks that it might look the way it does when he rolls out of bed.

"Arlene left in her own ship, right after I arrived," he says. His tone becomes resigned, "She had her own dimension-jumping drive. Anyway, I took the jacket, and I left. Their Red Dwarf was empty. It felt- well, it was plain wrong to leave it behind to turn to dust."

Nobody breaks the silence. He studies Rimmer. It's impressive, his ability to read Rimmer after all these years. Lister can sense the apprehension, guilt, and anger about the predicament, just from how he avoids eye contact. Rimmer won't take his eyes off the floor, which always means something different than looking at the ceiling. The atmosphere thickens, neither one knowing what to say.

Lister becomes distracted by the fact that the other is wearing his clothes. Well, not really _his_ , although they basically are.

He tries to come up with something to say. He finally speaks, "I'm sure Arlene will be alright."

It's a terrible thing to say, less helpful than a Talky Toaster (he would know), but he means it. He hopes the sincerity is palpable.

When the lift door opens, Kryten and the Cat are there to greet them. It takes a lot of effort on Lister's part- surreptitiously shaking his head and stepping furiously on several toes- but Lister gets them not to mention the sticky note thing. He doesn't think Rimmer would benefit from that conversation right now, so it can wait until tomorrow.

At the moment, Rimmer doesn't notice that anything is weird about Lister's behavior. He seems entranced with the reality of being back on Red Dwarf, although it's not an enamoring place at all. There are five dents in this corridor alone, from when Lister invented "rock golf" with him- but Lister can understand how he feels nostalgic about the whole thing. Rimmer is home and it's bewildering.

"Uhm, how's it been?" Rimmer eventually asks them. The question is shy, but it doesn't escape attention, and the two additions to the group are damn confused to be asked this.

"Wow," the Cat says suspiciously, "Is this really Mister Arsemonger himself?" 

"Tragically," Lister says, lying for the second time today.

Kryten tries to say something, but he gets cut off as Rimmer rolls his eyes. "Excuse me," he interjects, pushing past Kryten before the mechanoid can speak. "There's somewhere else I need to be. Glad you're all so thrilled to see me."

Lister feels his heart drop into his stomach at the sight of Rimmer's retreating back. He reassures Kryten that he didn't do anything wrong and shoots a baneful look at Cat. He runs after him and catches up when he turns the corner.

He lays a hand on his shoulder, which makes Rimmer stop walking."He didn't mean it, Rimmer," he says. "It's just that, we haven't seen you in a long time, and a lot of shit has happened. I wouldn't be surprised if Cat's resentful about that."

Rimmer doesn't say anything. Lister realizes he's still touching his shoulder- it's warm, and he can feel the vibrations of Rimmer's light bee before he removes his fingers. It's a bad decision because he immediately wishes he hadn't stopped touching him.

"Well, it hasn't been all hunkey-dorey for me, either."

"Are you going to tell Cat that?" Lister raises his eyebrows.

"Even if I did, it would just fall out the other ear," he sighs and starts walking again. 

"Where are you going now?" Lister asks.

"I don't know, just not here."

He realizes that Rimmer is heading towards their old quarters, and he starts to physically cringe because Rimmer isn't going to be very happy about the state of it. He follows him down the several flights of stairs.

"What the-?" He hears before he enters the room. It's not a pretty sight. Lister has forbade Kryten from touching it, although he hasn't any idea why, because it looks like a tsunami cleaning service has given them a free trial. 

"I'm sorry," Lister tries to say. "I've spent a lot of time here."

"Doing what?" He asks, picking up a pair of pants wrapped in twenty of his vintage wires, scrunching his face up disgustedly. "Destroying everything I ever owned?"

"Hey, I was making electric pants!"

"You're lucky you didn't put them on, these wires aren't even insulated." He starts to peel the pieces of copper off the garment, "What is wrong with you? Weren't you a technician?"

Altogether, Lister has mixed feelings towards Rimmer, but right now he can only remember the negative ones. He's absolutely crazy, isn't he? Who the hell misses Rimmer?

"Fine, then why don't I just leave? If I'm such a prat!" Lister yells. He doesn't give a shit how immature he's being, Rimmer should be feeling lucky he let him come back. It's his ship now, and it's his room. Rimmer is the one that left.

Lister goes to leave and notices the silver swimming certificate on the wall. He tears it down. "And I'm taking this with me. See if you ever get to show it to anyone again."

Rimmer gets a look on his face that would probably make anyone familiar with Ace Rimmer shit their pants, but Lister isn't one of those people, is he? He only knows Git Rimmer. The hero points his finger at Lister, his eyes are murderous. "Give that to me, Lister."

He sticks out his tongue at him, and that's definitely a mistake in retrospect. He's tackled to the ground, defenselessly wrestling him. Lister goes into an infantile position, trying to protect the certificate with his body. At first, Rimmer tries to pick him up and throw him, but he seems to weigh too much for that. He stands up and starts kicking him.

"You goddamn arsehole!" Rimmer screams.

Lister can't take much more of this, he feels like his ribs are going to be bruised. He stands up and tries to run away, but Rimmer grabs him from behind and starts grabbing the frame, his body lined up and pressed against Lister's back. It's warm, like his shoulder felt under Lister's palm. He finds himself leaning into the touch, and he inadvertently regrets what he's doing with the certificate, remembering that Rimmer is a real person; surprisingly, not just a git put in this world to torment him.

"Fine!" Lister yells again, relinquishing his grip. Rimmer falls away, lifting the certificate to hug it against his own body. "You're lucky I'm so nice."

Rimmer puts it on the wall again, ignoring Lister. He begins to pick up his things, making weird faces the whole time. Lister sits down on the floor and watches him. Ordinarily, he would leave after such a big argument, but he's ashamedly scared to let Rimmer out of his sight again. Two years without him, and after twenty minutes together, he's scarily codependent again. Codependent on a man that would break him in half for a swimming certificate.

He watches Rimmer traipse around the room for a long time; he picks up all the dirty clothes, sorts out his stationery collection, and arranges all the books in alphabetical order. Lister finds the ritual strangely intriguing.

"Why is my bed like this? Have you been letting the Cat sleep here?" Rimmer asks, standing up after several hours of silence. It's the last thing left to clean.

Lister looks up from where he's reading one of Rimmer's diary entries about alphabet soup. He thinks about his answer. "I was, I'm not sure why. Sorry."

He looks back down at the journal. He hears Rimmer make the bed and lie down, oddly neglecting to complain about the bed being used. 

He reads the diary:

> today lister tried to tell me that it's impossible to eat alphabet soup in alphabetical order. I said that he was a smeggy git and ordered a bowl with only A's, and told him I picked them all out. then I ate them. obviously in alphabetical order. because they're all A-shaped noodles. all in all, feeling accomplished.

His mouth falls open. Lister is flabbergasted. For one, that this is a real person, and that he also has the sheer misfortune to know him intimately. He's about to confront him about the discovery that he was lying, but Rimmer speaks first. 

"This bed smells like a vindaloo bathhouse."

Well, there's the unavoidable complaint about the bed. Lister knew it was too good to be true. "You should be grateful I've even allowed you in here," he retorts.

"Yes, the sheer privilege. It is noxious."

"I thought that was the vindaloo."

Rimmer grumbles half-heartedly and rolls over. 

Lister isn't sure what timetable Rimmer's internal clock is on after all the inter-dimensional travel, so he lets him sleep for as long as he wants. Besides, he enjoys the rhythmic nature of his slow breathing.

He welcomes Kryten in after eight hours of silence. He's surprised that his friend left them alone for that long since he's usually looking after Lister like an obsessed loon. He jumps off the top bunk to talk to him. 

"Sorry I didn't come to see you, Krytes. Rimmer fell asleep."

Kryten nods understandingly, "I just got a bit worried about you sir, I think this is the first time you guys have been this quiet during the day."

Lister admits it's not really normal for either of them, but he also hasn't seen him in over two years. "I just wonder why he wanted to sleep in here instead of somewhere else. He had to spend hours cleaning before he could bring himself to lie down."

"Well, isn't this where you also prefer to sleep?" Kryten inquires innocently. It's a good question. Lister finds himself inexplicably drawn to the quarters.

"Yeah, I s'pose so. Do you think we could wait until tomorrow to tell him about what we figured out? With time travel? I don't want to upset him again."

Kryten agrees and leaves after he's taken out the trash. 

He lies back down on the top bunk, one of Rimmer's books propped against his knee. He's not going to let anyone see him reading it, but it's not really that bad, is it?

Rimmer doesn't wake up until the next day. Lister was pretty sure he had run out of battery or something, but he's relieved to hear Rimmer rollover at about 3:30 AM. 

"Lister?" He hears from down below. Rimmer's voice is muffled. He's speaking into a pillow.

"Yeah?" Lister asks, hiding the book and flashlight under the sheets. He's been reading for hours in the dark, putting out the lights around 6 PM to keep Rimmer comfortable.

"Nothing, I- I was just worried you left."

It's not the words or even the way he says it, but it shocks him because it's coming from Rimmer. "I'm here, just go to sleep."

In the morning, Lister wakes up to Rimmer slamming a bag of bricks into the floor. He thinks that it's bricks. He opens his eyes and sees Rimmer with a bag of ice and a hammer.

"What is wrong with you?" Lister asks, sitting up. "I could still make you leave again," he admonishes, but they both know it's a weightless threat.

"The Cat asked me to break this ice for him," Rimmer explains like it's clear he has to do this right now, and while Lister is sleeping.

"Uhhhh. Since when do you help Cat? Can't you do this somewhere else?"

"You needed to wake up, the entire day is gone already."

Lister doesn't even reply until he glances at the time, instantly regretting ever being nice to Rimmer. "It's 2 o'clock." 

"Yes, precisely," he says and leaves the room with his ice.

Lister falls out of bed unceremoniously, remembering that he's on the top bunk a second too late. He swears vigorously, standing up to wrap himself in his pink blanket and follow Rimmer. He's still not letting him out of his sight.

He follows the sound of Rimmer's steps to the canteen, and he realizes that was the first night in months he didn't drink himself into a coma in order to fall asleep. It's hard to admit Rimmer has a positive effect like that on him.

"What did you need the ice for?" He asks as he orders a black coffee. He's disoriented by this urge to eat normal food, rather than something specifically for his hangovers. Rimmer, the Cat, and Kryten are all over in the corner, and he's starting to feel excluded. "Hello?"

The Cat waves for him to come over, and he notices that there's a bowl on the lunch table. It's filled with ice. Lister shuffles over to sit down, making a space for himself between Kryten and Rimmer. He notices that Rimmer is still wearing Deb's jacket.

"Don't ask me," Rimmer says, sitting backwards on the bench next to Lister. He leans his back against the table, his arms propped up. Lister is surprised by the uncharacteristic nonchalance. "They're doing something absolutely asinine with it."

Lister finds himself giving all his attention to Rimmer, ogling at the way he seems. . . Relaxed. Rimmer is relaxed. Unaware of what he's doing, Lister sips his coffee and yelps, "Shit- God." It's way too hot. _Thanks for being so distracting, Rimmer._

Wait, did he really just think that Rimmer looks distracting?

"Mister Cat here was trying to make ice sculptures," Kryten says, shaking his head sadly. 

Lister turns his head to watch Cat stack pieces of ice, just to have them fall off the table and slide away. "That's not how you make ice sculptures, dude."

Rimmer becomes overwhelmed by the situation. He throws his hands into the air, "That's what I told him!"

"Oh, alright, and who here has failed their physics exam almost ten times?" Cat says, turning on Rimmer.

"It's not _physics_ , it's astronavigation. You haven't even taken it- you're not smart enough to get in the room."

"Ah," Cat says, tapping his temple knowingly. "But I'm smart enough to know I shouldn't be there in the first place!"

Lister plops a piece of ice in his coffee and sips it quietly. 

"Fine, then I'll take it again just to prove you wrong," Rimmer scoffs. He pulls a pad of pink sticky notes out of his pocket.

The three of them don't move. Lister finds himself abruptly grabbing the pad out of Rimmer's hands, much to his dismay.

"Alright, I know they're rather effeminate, but you don't have to act like I'm some kind of-"

Lister shakes his head quickly to let Rimmer know that's not what they're concerned by.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter took a bit longer than the last, i needed some time to think about what i wanted to write! luckily it turned out okay.

Realizing it's still on his person, Lister shifts in his seat to take the sticky note out of his pocket. Rimmer watches warily. When he sees the piece of paper that's indistinguishable from the others, he looks as if he's going to throw up.

Lister holds it up to the light, comparing it's color to the notepad. No doubt, they're exactly the same.

"So you're telling me," Rimmer starts, leaning over to look at the piece of paper, "That I wrote this? Sorry, I don't believe you." He seems unusually defensive about it.

"It's your handwriting," Lister asserts. He isn't looking forward to this after their tiff yesterday, but it needs to be discussed. He moves on the bench to lean towards Rimmer, pulling his pink blanket around himself. "I'm not messing with you."

Rimmer's relaxed demeanor dissolves. He snatches the piece of paper from Lister, glaring at it in a distinctly Rimmer-esque manner, trying to detect any discrepancies that could reveal the hoax. Lister understands being skeptical of the people who always make him the butt of every joke, but he needs Rimmer to believe him. He needs him to understand.

Lister admits that he isn't the most supportive person. It's not fun to reflect on the way he's treated his friends, the only ones there for him, just for a laugh- but then again, Rimmer never thinks of him as above criticism. Rimmer takes the smeg just as often. Their relationship is fair like that.

He studies the way Rimmer's eyes flick across the paper, how his eyelashes flutter; the sound of his rushed breath. It's strange, this realization that he never appreciated any of Rimmer's traits or his idiosyncrasies before it was too late. He never valued he and Rimmer's symbiotic relationship, constantly going in expletive circles just to keep Lister in the area code of sanity. Now that he's back, he can't imagine living without him.

"We don't know which point in time the note has come from," Kryten says, breaking the careful silence.

Rimmer looks up from where he's seated. He puts his hands in his pockets, and Lister understands that his- no, Deb's- jacket makes Rimmer feel safe. It makes sense that he was so self-conscious when Lister asked about it. Lister feels the same way about his version of the jacket. It makes him feel safe as well.

Rimmer speaks, "Well if it's mine, of course, it's time traveled. It's been in my pocket for the last 18 months, somewhere in this notepad," Rimmer looks between the two items disbelievingly.

"You time traveled? When?" The Cat asks before Lister can. It's evident he's asking for his friend's sake, not his own. He looks bored, asking because he can sense Lister's intrigue about it. This should creep Lister out, although he finds it comforting that somebody understands his body language this well; he desperately wants to know what happened to Arnold J. Rimmer.

Rimmer shudders visibly, "I- It's not very important."

Au contraire, they can tell it's deadly important to him. Lister tries to be reassuring and put a hand on his shoulder, but he flinches away from the touch. "I'm not discussing it, it's not your business. Either way, this is obviously from a point in time that hasn't happened yet- I don't call you Dave," he sneers. Lister's chest starts aching again, courtesy of Rimmer. "It was probably just some funny joke of mine. I won't write ever write this, and it won't happen."

"It's already happened," Kryten says.

It doesn't help with Rimmer's mood. He looks up at the mechanoid distastefully. 

Lister puts his hands over his face, contemplating Kryten through the gaps between his fingers. From the way that Rimmer cringed away from his touch, he can grasp that something traumatic has happened to him, and the conversation has triggered him. This is precisely what he knew would happen. The topic has only made everything worse.

"Oi. It's fine. You don't have to tell us. It's not important. It's the future that matters. We can just find out how this happened later," He says earnestly. It's not their job to interrogate him like the Spanish inquisition. "It's going to happen eventually. It will get sent back in time, but we don't know when that's going to happen."

"No, we don't," Rimmer replies, crossing his arms in a sickly way like he's just had a cannonball hit him in the stomach. 

"Can I talk to you outside?" The Cat asks Lister queerly. He looks agitated.

Rimmer makes eye contact with Lister, afraid to be left alone with Kryten. Lister nods anyway, "Yeah, I'll be right back." He doesn't want to leave him, but he's only going in the hallway.

He accompanies the Cat into the cold corridor, "What is it?" He shivers. The heaters must be malfunctioning.

The feline narrows his eyes, unaffected by the temperature."Goalpost head is lying about something."

"What?" Lister shakes his head automatically, "Why?"

"I don't know, I think that's for you to find out. I'm not risking all my clothes because he needs to keep a secret about his time-traveling shenanigans, so Red Dwarf ends up in some black hole or something."

"I really doubt your suits will be in danger. Are you sure you're not just mad at him?" He asks, thinking back to the feline's bad mood yesterday.

"I'm always mad at him, but I reject the implication that means I'm wrong. What if he did something that could endanger our lives?" Cat asks.

"I don't think Rimmer would do that," Lister says dubiously. "But I can try to find out."

"Do it sooner rather than later," He urges, and leaves Lister in the hallway, going back into the dining hall. Their conversation leaves him apprehensive. The Cat isn't usually so assertive about things. Does it mean something, that Lister is so reluctant to admit Rimmer could be lying to them?

He reenters the room and his eyes settle on his friend, who has resumed his argument about the ice sculptures being stupid, Kryten as his victim. Lister sighs. Rimmer needs to chill the hell out.

"Rimmer, man. Let's go."

He looks up at Lister, his anger curiously dissolving. Usually, when he turns his attention towards Lister, it makes his bad moods worse. "Where are we going?" He asks, already standing up to follow.

"Do you fancy a game?"

"I'm not sure what game we're supposed to play," Rimmer counters as he follows him back into the hallway. "Just make sure it doesn't involve the Cat or a bowl of ice."

"Well, there goes my entire repertoire."

"Haha, Listy. In all seriousness, I thought we had outgrown this kind of thing."

"Do most people outgrow having fun?" Lister asks seriously.

Rimmer takes a few steps before he replies, "I suppose not. I always thought that was the case because my parents never understood it in the first place."

"Yeah, didn't your mom find you hanging in a tree and think your brothers were playing?"

"At least they tied the rope around my feet, not my neck."

Lister tries to find the statement funny, but it's not easy to revel in the sheer hilarity of Rimmer's childhood. They continue to walk in tandem, their destination as yet undecided. "Well, what would you have done with them? What would you have played if they were normal children?"

"I. . ." Rimmer has clearly not been asked this before, "I really just wanted to play chess."

"Seriously?"

"I only ever had one friend who played with me, but she's dead now, as most people are."

"Ah, a girl?" Lister teases, raising his eyebrows. 

"We were twelve, I'm not really sure it warrants that kind of response."

"Probably not," Lister admits, opening the door to an officer's quarters. "I know I've seen a chess set in here somewhere," he mutters.

"You want to steal Abbington's chess set?" Rimmer muses as he enters, "Great, I'll help you look. I hated that bitch."

Bending down to look through her dresser, Lister inadvertently sputters and laughs at the statement. "I agree."

"That's the first time you've laughed since I got back," Rimmer says, then realizes what he's said, and looks like he wants to jump out the nearest window.

Lister finds his cheeks getting warmer as he looks away, "Yeah, the first time in weeks, actually."

Rimmer is silent as Lister discovers the chess set, buried under several of Abbington's other belongings, including a purple journal. Neither of them are tempted to read it, as they apparently only care to read each other's diaries.

"Huzzah!" Lister says, opening the box. It seems to have all the pieces. 

They go back to their quarters and Rimmer sets up the board for them both. It's not Lister's area of expertise.

"Do you remember if the king or queen is on the left?" Rimmer asks.

"Does it matter?"

Rimmer blows air out of his nose as he tries not to justify that with an answer. Lister knows those things matter to him, but it's funny to pretend otherwise. 

The game is interesting enough to Lister, and he tries not to care whether he wins or loses, but he finds himself becoming excessively upset every time Rimmer takes one of his pawns.

"Why do you have to treat me like this?" He whines.

"It's my purpose," Rimmer says, propping his chin on his hand as he examines the board. There's some undeniable truth to what he says. "I just need to decide whether to take your king or the rook now."

"Isn't that the point of the game?" He asks, confused. "If you can take the king, isn't that checkmate?"

"Ah, yes, but this is the first time I've played in three thousand millennia, and I know you won't play a second game with me."

Lister wants to point out that he's wrong, although he knows that means Rimmer will choose to win. "Not necessarily," he offers.

"Oh, really?" Rimmer's eyes have a glint in them, "Okay, checkmate."

"Oh, you smeghead."

He sits there for several more hours with him. Lister wins the second game, as well as the third, and the fourth happens to go in Rimmer's favor. He can't believe he's able to have fun with him again, and that he's able to admit to himself that they're having fun. It doesn't occur to him until that evening, that Lister needs to find out what Rimmer was lying about earlier. He doesn't want to start prying and ruin the mood. Rimmer looks so happy from winning the last game.

"D'ya want to get a drink?" Lister asks. He didn't have any alcohol in the last two days, and he's feeling the urge.

"Yeah, I guess," Rimmer says, "You played surprisingly well."

"I only won half the time," he points out as they make their way to the bar. He doesn't know why he wants to drink in there, since he has lager in his room, but it doesn't really matter. Nobody here is going to question his choice. For all Rimmer knows, there's a good reason, even though there isn't.

They enter the bar; it's empty and the lights are off. Lister stumbles around for a minute, trying to find the lights. He has no idea why he finds the idea so enamoring, but he's going to make Rimmer hang out in here with a disco ball, even if he falls over a chair and dies trying.

Rimmer watches the sad scene from the doorway until Lister manages to turn it on. "Why have you chosen to turn the place into a gay pride disco?"

"You just don't have any taste," Lister proclaims whilst he admires the colorful lighting.

They sit down at one of the tables. Rimmer speaks, "Holly, can you give me a triple shot? It seems like I'm going to need it."

Lister tries to say something, but Holly cuts him off from her screen in the corner, "Oh, now you're speaking to me, as soon as you need something." She rolls her eyes.

Rimmer looks exasperated. Lister assumes he's going to tell her to piss up a rope, but he nods. "You're right, I should've said hello when I came back! Now, can I please get hammered?"

Lister spits out his drink from where he's been glugging it, "You're rather keen, aren't you?"

"Well, it's certainly been a while." Rimmer flinches as Holly gives him several shots in quick succession, slamming his fist into the table in pain, "Oh God."

Lister's mouth literally falls open as he gazes at the other man, who looks like he's going to fall out of his seat. "You are going to die," he says plainly.

"Four more," Rimmer tells Holly.

Lister and she make eye contact from across the room as Rimmer experiences the pain of his seventh shot in two minutes. 

"Rimmer, I can't tell if your goal here is assisted suicide, but that's what's happening either way," he says.

Rimmer picks his face up from its new home on the table, "I can't see."

That seems about right. Lister goes over to the bar and gets two whiskeys for himself, finishing them in quick succession. He orders a lager and vindaloo from the vending machine, then sits down next to Rimmer again.

"Hey, can you eat real food?" He asks Rimmer as he shovels it towards his mouth, not really caring if it makes it all the way there.

"Although it pains me to say it, yes," He scrunches his face at the spicy monstrosity Lister is attempting to consume.

"Here, try this," Lister says, shoving a forkful towards Rimmer's face. To his surprise, he eats it in his drunken state.

"What is this? Radioactive waste with a side of death crumble?" He asks after he swallows it. "Alright, I want more."

For some reason Lister doesn't get Rimmer his own bowl, he just keeps shoveling food into the other's mouth, and it's an experience he never assumed would happen. There are billions of parallel universes, but he's sure this is the only one where Rimmer is letting himself be fed vindaloo.

"That was absolutely terrible," Rimmer says after he's finished it. Lister is sure he's just being pedantic.

"Sure it was." He laughs and stands up, "Do ya want to-" He tries not to stumble over his words. Tumble. Stumble? "D'ya want. . . To dance? Dance, Rimmer?" Lister is so very drunk, he doesn't know what he's doing, just that he wants a response.

Rimmer is quiet as he tries to suss Lister out. Lister can't stop admiring him and his curly hair, and the way he's wearing his coat; it doesn't even matter that it's from a parallel dimension. It makes him feel like he's on cloud nine.

"I might be persuaded," Rimmer admits, standing up. It's not graceful. He trips over nothing as he tries to approach Lister.

"Hey, Holly, can you play some music?" Lister asks. He grabs Rimmer's arm by the sleeve and pulls him towards him.

"What are you doing?" Rimmer asks, the corner of his mouth twitching peculiarly. He puts his hands on Lister's shoulders. "Maybe standing up is a bad idea."

Lister realizes that he doesn't know how to dance a bit too late- he just bangs his head laughably and backs up away from Rimmer, looking at him jokingly; seductively. Rimmer is here, in front of him, everything he's been wishing for. He wishes Rimmer would look at him in the same light.

"I can't dance," Rimmer says, stepping backwards. The newfound space is like a chasm; Lister doesn't feel safe with it there.

"Yeah, neither can I."

"Then what are you doing?" 

"I don't know, I never know what I'm doing, I wish I did," Lister giggles. "Can't you do something without being good at it?"

"It seems like I've already been doing that for a long time," Rimmer scoffs at himself. "If my. . . Astronavs are anything to go by," he starts to slur his speech.

"Oh, well, what's one more thing?" Lister makes the executive decision to grab Rimmer's hand, pulling him towards him. Rimmer, being the taller one, spins him around whilst laughing. They fall into a waltz with Rimmer taking the lead, dancing to the 20th century pop music Holly chose to play for them.

"I thought you said you were bad at this," Lister questions.

"I didn't know. . . That the dancing lessons my parents subjected me to would be useful here," Rimmer continues to talk slowly. He looks sheepish about his skills, but Lister thinks it's endearing.

"It's great, don't be embarrassed."

Rimmer looks down at Lister. Lister can feel his breath on his face. His eyes are bright moonlight in the dark room. "I'm not embarrassed, I just haven't done this with anyone in a long time."

Lister finds himself leaning into Rimmer's shoulder; it's the exact height for him to rest his face in the crook of his neck. Rimmer's breathe becomes slow and shallow.

"Rimmer?"

"Yes?"

He mumbles into the collar of the jacket, "Why wouldn't you tell me the truth earlier today?"

He feels Rimmer shake his head as they spin in place, "I didn't want to."

"Why?"

"It's- I didn't want to tell you. I already wrote that note that you showed me, the one reminding me to get you a present."

All of a sudden, the same paper in Lister's pocket feels like it's heavy as hell. He doesn't take his head off Rimmer's shoulder. "You did?"

"I wrote it a few months ago, to remind myself to do those things when I found Red Dwarf. When I found you again. I still have it. It hasn't gotten sent back in time yet. It's in my ship."

Lister pulls his face away from Rimmer's shoulder, instantly missing the warmth it had provided him. He keeps his fingers on Rimmers arm, his left hand curled into his waist. He's too inebriated to properly appreciate the sensation of touching him. "Wait, what present did you want to get me?"

He shrugs, "I had a few ideas. It's not your birthday yet, though."

"So, it's a surprise?"

"I guess if you want to put a label on it," he says, spinning Lister around again. "I didn't think I'd get this far, honestly."

"You didn't think you would get home?" The idea makes Lister feel sick.

"I didn't think you would want me here anymore."

Lister knows Rimmer has abandment issues. It's plain to most people that he doesn't have great self esteem in personal relationships, but Lister feels like shit for making him feel that way, with him of all people. "Of course I do, Holly brought you back for me, didn't she? An IQ of 6000, she has. I couldn't possibly disagree with her."

Rimmer smiles, "Yeah, you've never had any issues with Holly before. She's practically like your twin. The exact same brain in two bodies."

"God, I wouldn't go that far."

Holly appears on the screen across the room. She's wearing a night cap, "Did somebody say my name?"

"No, it's fine Hols," Lister says. Everything really is fine.

The song ends and Rimmer pulls away from him. It's an upsetting occurrence. "I think we should go to sleep," Rimmer states. "I'm going to fall over otherwise. You'll have to get Kryten to carry me back on a stretcher."

Lister finds drunk Rimmer to be very funny, "Alright, you louse."

"Louse?" Rimmer inquires as he follows Lister out of the disco-lit bar, rubbing his eyes. "I cannot believe you would say that. I actually can't believe you."

"That's why you love me."

Rimmer nods indiscriminately, certainly not understanding what he's agreeing to. 

Lister opens the door to their room and guides Rimmer in gently by the arm, leading him to the bottom bunk. "Sleep like shit," he says affectionately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note edited: 2/17/2021
> 
> thank you guys for any kudos or comments! i haven't written a new chapter for this fic yet because of school, but lmk if ur interested in reading a new one :) maybe i'll come back and finish this lil creation.


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